The List
by Misaki12
Summary: Lestrade keeps a list of what he can do when he is with Sherlock. (asexual!Sherlock)


_for the Fool_  
_translated from french by telepathicmagnet from tumblr_ _Nothing is mine_

* * *

_Hugs._

_Kissing (not all the time)._

_Holding hands (but not whilst on a case)._

(Careful: ask for permission first.)

Not more.

The list - Greg knows it all by heart.

(Careful: make it so that Sherlock doesn't stumble upon it.)

Greg would like more, sometimes. He'd like to be able to touch Sherlock, to kiss Sherlock, without having to ask for permission beforehand. He'd like to be able to make love to Sherlock, Sherlock who doesn't want to make love with Greg, who cannot - Sherlock who isn't attracted to Greg like Greg is to Sherlock.

But Sherlock who loves Greg nevertheless - like Greg loves Sherlock.

It's sufficient, the rest of the time.

More than enough, actually.

To know that he's loved _that much _by someone _like that_, it turns Greg's stomach upside down when he thinks of it. And he assumes Sherlock probably experiences the same thing.

If it's cliché to say that Greg has never felt that with anyone else, then Greg has never felt that with anyone else.

And to hell - no need for sex.

_That_ _ is better._

_That _ _is:_

Hugs.

When Sherlock gives up all self-control and leaves it all up Greg. Because it's Greg and that Greg has the right to. When Sherlock accepts an intimacy he wouldn't accept with anyone else. So Greg doesn't care about having to ask, if he can have that.

To kiss.

And that sometimes Sherlock takes advantage of the situation to whisper something that Greg is the only one to hear. His heart flutters and he's grinning so widely that his cheeks are aching.

'' I love you too, you know.'' (He really hopes that Sherlock knows.)

To hold hands.

So Greg would wish so much for him to never have to let go of Sherlock that it would become almost painful.

Sex: Greg had had to learn to do without.

He still has to learn.

Thank God, when Greg's libido is playing up, Sherlock knows when to slip away in order to give him a moment alone.

''There's no need for shame, Greg,'' often says Sherlock before cuddling up to him, once he's back. So Greg believes him, and he wouldn't want to trade it for anything else. Sherlock whispers an ''I love you'' in his ear – his heart beats faster. ''You know, Greg, I like hugs,'' he adds nonchalantly, which elicits an amused chuckle from Greg. ''I love them too.''

All of that – it's more than what Greg could have ever hoped for.

And the list is only a tiny detail. Just a guarantee that he won't do any of what he cannot do and even though Greg knows the list all by heart, he finds some comfort in it.

So when the list disappears, Greg turns his apartment upside down, searches every nook and cranny, and he finds this completely ridiculous because the list is usually hidden in his coat pocket. He couldn't have lost it that easily.

Except that yes.

He panics.

When Sherlock arrives, Greg is sitting in the middle of his living room, looking defeated. ''I lost it,'' he simply says, ignoring the obvious confusion that can be read on Sherlock's face. Greg stands up and slicks his shirt with one hand. ''The list.'' There is a lump in his throat. Sherlock still doesn't say anything. ''I've got a list of what… Well, of what I can do with you.'' His cheeks are reddening whilst he looks away. Stupid. Completely preposterous. The list – it's Greg's thing and no one else's.

And Sherlock who's still not saying anything.

Sherlock who, instead of speaking, starts to search thoroughly alongside him. (So Greg sighs with relief.)

But after many hours spent searching, neither of them finds the list. (And Sherlock hasn't opened his mouth.)

''So when is it that you'll tell me this was a stupid idea?'' They're both sitting on the ground, with the apartment now in a mess… '' It was a stupid idea, Lestrade,'' Sherlock replies.

''Obviously.''

''But it means a lot to you.''

''Obviously.''

'' This is why I've never said anything about it.''

And Sherlock falls silent again.

Sherlock knew, _obviously_.

Later - Greg doesn't remember when exactly - the list reappears in his coat pocket.

Curiously, the writing resembles his favourite detective's.

Greg smiles.


End file.
